


His First Goal

by lastcrazyhorn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Crack, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Master of Death Harry Potter, Severus Snape is So Done, Slightly insane Harry Potter, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 00:10:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21024524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastcrazyhorn/pseuds/lastcrazyhorn
Summary: Harry went back again and again until it was fixed.  At least somewhat.





	1. Chapter 1

He went back in time as an adult with one goal. He wanted to give his younger self a home.

It's not his fault that everyone else in the past is stark raving mad. It really isn't. 

Short of killing off everyone that causes problems for him--and isn't that just the creepiest thought ever--he suspects that the accumulating deaths will only result in more difficulties in the long run, and not just for him.

Thankfully, he has prepared for such an eventuality, at least at the basic most sense of preparation.

He, thanks to a very underutilized wizarding charm, has several _million_ galleons of spare polyjuice hidden away in a hidden pocket space that is accessible via a pocket within his outer robe.

He supposes it's a good thing that his ability to age was lost shortly before he became the Master of Death. He's just glad that he's not immortal--well, not entirely. He has enough lives to do what he needs to fulfill the dreams of his heart, but not much beyond.

. . .

First things are first, at least sometimes. Arabella Figg is not someone that he can successfully memory-charm into doing what he wants for the rest of Harry's life. 

So, he packs her up and sends her to New Zealand with a herd of cats that are at least half hers and half new. In return, she leaves him with a couple of decades worth of her hair. 

He thinks briefly that there might be a better way to fix this than going the longest way around possible, but ultimately pushes it out of his mind. If nothing else, it amuses him, and since there are so very few things that amuse him, it is worth doing, if only for that.

He wonders when he lost his sanity. He doesn't wonder for too long.

While living as Arabella Figg, he makes certain to invite young Harry to "her" house far more than the original had ever done. "Her" house is still as musty and messy as it ever was, but the cakes that "she" gives Harry are far tastier than the disgusting mush he received as a child.

Those few times that Dumbledore contacts "her" remind him of why he has decided to live as a batty old woman with too many cats. 

All he has to do now is to retrieve Harry _after_ the time that he took up her mantle, and all will be well. 

Except, except, Petunia won't let him have Harry. 

He growls and looks at Harry in apology and leaves the house. The next day, Petunia finds her way to America very deeply confunded, and he takes up the role of Petunia for the rest of her unnatural life. 

At the end of that hellish time, after faking _her_ death, he goes back in time to just after he took on Petunia's life. This time, _Petunia_ lets him take Harry, and they smile at one another in private, his older self silently thanking his younger self for his sacrifice. For theirs.

Harry voluntarily comes with him with Petunia's blessing, and all is well until Dumbledore gets wind of it and tries to intervene, fewer than two minutes out the door.

Really, Dumbledore is too easy. It's almost as if he is expecting to be memory charmed into playing Father Christmas year-round by a time-traveler wearing Harry's older face.

Almost.

He takes Harry away while wearing Dumbledore's face, and while the look on little Harry's face is somewhat comical, the child goes with him willingly. 

He makes a note in his notebook to check on his Arabella Figg self and let him in on the change sometime in the future. He wonders if he will get more years added to his not-immortal self.

He doesn't wonder for too long. He doesn't really care to know. 

. . . 

As it happens, the added years that his Arabella self receives are just what the doctor ordered, splitting the new time stream very evenly into two separate personas. 

After his second self gets out of the Figg role, he goes to the Dursley house at the original time and checks to see if Harry is still in residence. 

Thank Merlin, he's not, but Petunia strikes him as just a tad odd, and on a whim, he takes care of Vernon with a very well placed obliviation and sends him on to the closest institution, having already stolen all of his hair as well as his identification. It's not as though the old man will need it anymore.

Vernon-Harry looks at Petunia-Harry later than evening and they both raise an eyebrow at one another. Their "son" is in the next room over, gorging himself silly, and while they have taken pains to remain in character, the boy really should have noticed something going amok with the morning's events. 

"Perhaps we should put the boy on a diet, Pet," Vernon-Harry states slowly.

"Oh, I think that's the second best idea you've ever had!" Petunia-Harry gushes. 

"And my first best?"

"This morning, of course, my _dear," _Petunia-Harry says.

"Of course."

. . .

Later, Vernon-Harry, after dying of a heart attack at a dreadfully young age (Petunia-Harry had been forced to endure Marge, and already had plans in that regard), found his way back to the minute directly after he had first taken up the mantle of Vernon. 

In turn, he apparated to Hogwarts and took over for Quirrell. That summer, he travelled deep into the depths of an Albanian forest, and searched out the area that the snakes told him to avoid.

"_Hello, my dear old wraith. I have a proposition for you,_" Quirrell-Harry hissed at the dark spot that Voldemort floated in. 

Voldemort hissed and grumbled, but eventually proved receptive to Quirrell-Harry's plan. Quirrell-Harry had him packed up within a hermetically sealed and break-proof vial before the wraith could say, "Bob's your uncle." Not that Volde-wraith _would _have, but that was entirely beside the point.

Quirrell-Harry then did what no one was expecting and delivered him back to Gringotts in order to have his soul put back together.

In the short two year span that it took for this to happen, Harry went back into time 7 times, replacing four more people that had attempted to slow the process. Those people lived another 148 years before he was finally allowed to get back with the programme, so to speak.

. . .

One of those lives let him split the time stream again, releasing another one of his personas into the timeline to act independently of the other two. 

It ignores the Voldemort-wraith and heads off to Hogwarts while his other self is technically at Gringotts.

He doesn't expect to find Harry living with Dumbledore, but he really doesn't have any real expectations anymore, so he chooses to roll with it. In his new role as Minister Fudge--and hadn't that just been a kick in the head--he manages to get Harry's guardianship transferred to Hogwarts, something that shocks Dumbledore-Harry quite thoroughly until he realises his identity. 

"Tell me, dear boy," Dumbledore-Harry's eyes twinkle in almost exactly the same way as the original had.

"How many people have you been since I last saw you?"

"I'm not entirely certain you ever saw me, old man," Fudge-Harry answers with a smile.

"Who are we then?"

"To my knowledge?" Fudge-Harry asks with a raised eyebrow more reminiscent of their old Potions' Professor than of the persona he is wearing.

"Yes, please. To your knowledge, if you would."

Fudge-Harry glances at the portraits behind Dumbledore-Harry's head with a questioning look.

"Sworn to silence, I assure you," Dumbledore-Harry answers jovially.

"We are Quirrell. We are Petunia. We are Uncle Vernon. And we are Figg. We are Fudge. We are Hagrid. We are Lucius Malfoy. And we are . . ."

"We are Moody," A new voice breaks in from behind them. 

"What number are you?" One of them asks. 

"I am four. Three is still at the bank."

"At the bank?" Dumbledore-Harry asks, in some surprise.

"With Volde-wraith, of course he still is," Fudge-Harry rolls his eyes in a despairing manner.

"We were also Snape shortly, but we set him straight," A new voice says, gliding into the room. 

It was Snape. Followed by a scowling . . . Snape.

"Interesting," Dumbledore-Harry answers.

"I, for one," The second Snape bites off very bitterly, "Would like to know how many of you there are?"

"At least ten," The first Snape says, grinning uncharacteristically at them all.

"Ten?" Gasps out one of them. 

Fudge-Harry doesn't see who says it; all he knows is that the office is becoming very full. 

"I don't even recognise all of these people," Dumbledore-Harry admits slowly. 

"What of the Dark Lord?" Someone whispers.

"Sane," Says Quirrell-Harry, shuffling into the centre of the room.

"Will he return to the public light?"

"I don't know, will he?" Voldemort-Harry strides forward.

"What of the original?"

"Out," Voldemort-Harry waves vaguely around.

"I need to know," Dumbledore-Harry answers in a quiet voice.

"If he wants to, then he will. I told him that Severus was still around. Perhaps he'll want to come have a drink or two with you," Voldemort-Harry answers, leering at the real Snape.

It is a rather disconcerting look. 

Snape's scowl only deepens. 

"Will you stay here? At Hogwarts?" Dumbledore-Harry asks of the only man who is not him or any version of him.

"It seems that I must. If only to keep the world from being overrun by Potters. Someone must provide Harry with a sane mind."

"Oh, come now. It's not that bad. We haven't taken over for Minerva," Dumbledore-Harry scoffs.

"Er," A feminine voice breaks in. "We have. Sorry."

"But why?"

"She caught on and tried to stop one of us."

"Filius?"

"No, he's still here."

"Under oath," Another one mutters.

"But still here."

"Sirius?"

The room laughs. 

Dumbledore-Harry waves them off. 

"I should have expected that," The man sighs.

"Remus?" 

"Went with Sirius," Remus-Harry says, poking his head out from behind Hagrid-Harry.

"To?" Dumbledore-Harry asks.

"Bermuda, I think."

"Sprout?"

"Still here. Rather oblivious," Cormac-Harry says.

Real Snape snorts aloud.

"She probably knows," Real Snape remarks quietly. 

"He would know," Snape-Harry grumbles, glaring at his counterpart.

"Well, perhaps we should stop changing time. I wouldn't want Harry to end up marrying one of us."

Silence. 

"He hasn't, right?"

"Not to our knowledge," Several speak in unison. 

"Good. Let's keep it that way."

"How is Mr Potter?" Real Snape asks.

"You could always ask him yourself," Dumbledore-Harry answers, waving a hand at the door to his living quarters.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an epilogue

He had been making breakfast when a man had come to the door asking for him. The man looked a lot like him. Little Harry's heart had swelled to fill his entire chest with warmth when the man had said he was there to take Harry home.

But his Aunt Petunia had crushed that with a screech, and he had been sent to his cupboard without anything to eat for the rest of the day.

The next day had changed all of that. The man had come back and his aunt had cooked breakfast herself, promising him that she would not interfere this time if he still wanted to go. 

Goodness, he still wanted to go!

The other man had taken his hand, and as they had walked out the door, a man dressed with wild robes with long grey hair had _literally_ appeared on the walk in front of them. 

In a blink of time, the man had a stick in the old man's face, and only a few seconds later, the man was tottering off, muttering about reindeer, his long hair suddenly very short.

The man beside him had pulled out a flask and dropped a silver thread of some sort into it before swallowing it down in a gulp. The air shifted around them, and the people that had been staring at them abruptly started to walk off without another glance.

And just like that, the old man was back, but was now wearing the clothes of the man who had taken him from his relatives.

"Harry, I need you to trust me. I'm still me, but now I'm going to be wearing another person's face for a bit. Can you handle that?"

"Who _are_ you?" Little Harry asked, not really so bothered by the face.

"Me?" The man in front of him blinked. "Me? I'm your best friend. I'm your big brother. I'm gonna give you a home. That's all you've ever wanted, right?"

Little Harry blinked hard at the sudden appearance of tears. How did this stranger know so much?

"With hugs? And my own room?"

"And your own bed, and nighttime stories, and oh! Oh, so much more!" The man said, clasping his hands together in a way that made him seem so much younger, giant white beard or not.

"I want that! I want that so much!" Little Harry whispered in a fierce voice. 

"Well then, come on. Hold my hand. We're gonna go home. And, and it'll be the best ever. You'll see! I promise. I always keep my promises. Even if they take a thousand years, I'll always keep my promises."

If only little Harry knew just how true that statement would turn out to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I broke my brain.


End file.
